Closer Than Really Close Talking
by Cassandra Mulder
Summary: Juliet's not quite convinced talking was Shawn's true intention.


**Title: **Closer Than Really Close Talking  
**Author: **Cassandra Mulder  
**Rating: **PG  
**Classification: **_Psych_; Shawn/Juliet  
**Spoilers: **_Bounty Hunters!_  
**Disclaimer:** Sadly, the hilarity that is Psych does not belong to me. No infringement is intended.  
**Summary:** Juliet's not quite convinced talking was Shawn's true intention.  
**Written:** September 15, 2007  
**Word Count:** 744  
**A/N:** This is for Jen, who wanted what we all wanted - a slightly different ending to this episode. Because Psych is a mid-season finale kiss tease. I hope this helps, Jen. ;)

* * *

Juliet had broken down and reassembled her gun twice, and she still couldn't calm down. This exercise wasn't working, not tonight.

She wondered if Shawn had already managed to leave the building in under a minute, but her feet got ahead of her brain and she was headed for the front door before she knew what was happening. She stood at the top of the stairs, scanning the darkened parking lot, and she saw him striding across it. He was still wearing that ridiculous leather vest, strutting toward that ridiculous thing he called a motorcycle.

She resisted the urge to call out to him, and instead she ran.

Her footsteps echoed on the asphalt, she knew, but he didn't turn around until she was two steps away. His expression was inquisitive, but he asked no questions and she provided no answers as she finally stood in front of him. She didn't know if she was winded from her sprint across the lot or from what she was about to do, but there wasn't time to consider it further.

She grabbed the edges of his vest and yanked, hard. He practically fell into her, he was so caught off guard by her actions, but her lips found their mark.

He recovered from his surprise in a remarkable amount of time, and she felt his arms go around her, his hands spread across the small of her back. Her hands were still trapped between them, but she managed to let go of his vest and clutch two handfuls of his t-shirt as if he would pull away if she let go completely.

She knew that this was a bad idea; that nothing good could ever come of playing with fire in the vicinity of Shawn Spencer. But she had just had the most horrible day of her life, and it didn't matter if it was a good idea or not. For once she was going to indulge in what she wanted, if only for a moment.

His mouth was hot beneath hers, and she was being so aggressive she was scaring herself, in the rare milliseconds she could think. She managed to slide her arms out from between them, and she wrapped them around his neck, her fingers twisting into the back of his hair. She felt his tongue slip between her lips, and she moaned, her knees almost buckling beneath her.

It was like Shawn had felt the almost imperceptible shift in her stance, and his hands clutched her more tightly to him. She moaned again in the back of her throat and briefly wondered just how long someone could live without air.

She was _so_ going to regret this when it was over.

He seemed to sense that she needed air (Oh God, could he actually _be_ psychic?), and let up a little, giving her quick kisses and trailing her jaw before going back to her lips. That's when she realized she was no longer in control, and she broke away completely.

His arms fell away from her, and she took a step back, straightening her shirt and jacket. She desperately tried to feign normal breathing, but it was no use. They were both panting so hard it was like they had run a marathon.

"And what do you call that?" Shawn said simply, an eyebrow raised.

Juliet cocked her head, her hands still holding the hem of her shirt as she shifted from one foot to the other, _knowing_ she looked exactly as flustered as she felt.

"That's... uh... Thank you," she said, her voice unsteady and much too high. "Just... thanks again for today. You really saved my ass." She wanted to sound tough, but Shawn knew better. He always did.

He smirked, but it looked like he might let her off the hook. "No problem. Maybe I should save it more often," he said.

She wiped her palms on the front of her pants and watched for a moment as he calmly turned to his bike and put on his helmet. She was about to turn and head back into the station when he revved the engine, getting her attention.

"Night, Jules," was all he said, that completely annoying knowing gleam in his eye, before he rode off into the night.

Her face crumpled and she groaned as she started back toward the building to gather her things. If she didn't beat her own gun dismantling record tonight, she never would.

Finis


End file.
